When She Never Lied
by CreamLemon
Summary: What if Mrs. Lovett hadn’t lied? In an alternate story line Sweeney knows that Lucy is alive, and wants revenge even more than ever. Angst. Sweeney/Lucy Sweeney/Mrs. Lovett. Rating may go up later chapters.
1. Poor Thing

"When She Never Lied"

A/N: What if Mrs. Lovett hadn't lied? What if she told Sweeny exactly what had happened to Lucy? Assume that the movie has taken place up 'till then end of 'Worst Pies in London' absolutely unchanged.

* * *

"I could rent it out," she said, looking up the stairs. "I could, but I don't. Some people says its haunted, but it aint. They sees a face in the window sure enough, but…well, you see for yerself then."

Mrs. Lovett took the stranger who was not so strange up the stairs to the second storey, letting him go first. They kicked aside some rubbish when they reached the top of the stairs, and he nearly knocked her back down the steps trodding on her feet and bumping into her. She hissed as she felt the warmth of his body against her own. "Steady now, sir," she said, urging him forward. She had never expected to see him again. Her heart beat wild in her chest.

The wallpaper hung in clawed strips on the walls. Most of the furniture was in pieces. Shattered glass crunched under their feet, shining in the dim London light, reflecting--mirror pieces. A child's cradle sat in the middle of the room, overflowing with dirty rags, a shattered doll, broken bottles--similar refuse lay strewn around the room, and in one dark corner, set far under the eaves, was a large, person sized nest of rags and blankets. It stank of human waste and rotting food.

"What has happened to the place?"

"Why, I lets her stay here--most nights she comes back. Didn't have the heart to turn her out. When the smell gets too bad I comes up and throws it all out--If I knew you were coming, I would have cleaned--Benjamin Barker."

She said his name like it was an accusation--she had not been sure until she had shown him the room, but it was him, wasn't it?

"It's _Todd_, now. _Sweeney Todd_. Are you to tell me that my Lucy still lives?"

"I don't know if you would call it that, poor fool." She still could not believe what the silly, naïve thing had done all those years before, but related it to him down to every last painful detail as she knew it. She told him about the Judge's party, how he took her against her will, and when she ran the sad state Mrs. Lovett found her in on her doorstep the next morning, half mad already. "She took a poison in the end," she told him softly, putting comforting hands on his shoulders as he stood, staring not at her but somewhere beyond her face. "Arsenic. From the apothecary 'round the corner."

"But she did not die."

"No, though it might have been a blessing if she had." He reached up and clasped one of her hands--too hard. She let him squeeze, placing her free hand over his. "The poison sent her mad--should have gone to the hospital, but she had no money of course. Ended up in bedlam for a little while. . .now she wanders the streets, naught but a mad beggar. Her memory is gone, does nothing but sing about and bother people. I make sure she don't freeze in the winter, but that's about all that can be done."

He walked over to the large window, surprisingly still intact when every other piece of glass in the room was broken. "She's out there somewhere? All alone?"

"She'll be back," Mrs. Lovett replied matter-of-factly. "Don't worry none about that--come back downstairs now. I have something to show ya."

He started to let her lead him back to the stairs, but froze again, staring at the cradle. "What about Johanna? Mrs. Lovett, where is my daughter?"

She sighed and put her arms around him. "He took her from me. Mind you, Albert wasn't too keen on keeping her anyway, neither of us had much use for babies, but the judge came and took her. He's been raising her as his ward for fifteen years now. As long as you've been away."

"Judge Turpin?" His eyes looked at her now, cold as silver razors gone to seed in a box. His voice was hoarse, murderous and she was afraid.

"You can't do anything about it. You're supposed to be transported for life. And he's a judge. What would you do?"

"I plan on killing him. He has killed Benjamin Barker. He has killed my Lucy. He deserves to die."

"Well then. I have something for you."

He followed her down to her apartments behind the shop, and she wondered at this new Benjamin Barker, this Sweeney Todd. Mr. Barker was quiet and sweet, a perfect tenant. She had loved him from afar, envying Lucy for such a beautiful husband, but never once attempting to attract his attentions. He was a man of honor. She saw nothing of that person in the man walking with her downstairs. This new man, he was wild, full of rage…and just as beautiful. She was even more in love than she had been fifteen years ago.

* * *

Part 2 to follow in the next day or two. If you want more of my stuff, I write a serialized novel that updates twice a week. There's a link in my profile.

* * *


	2. My Friends

When She Never Lied pt 2

* * *

Mrs. Lovett lead Sweeney downstairs to her own private apartments in the back of the shop. "You remember Albert," she said as they passed the photograph of her dearly departed. "Passed away near ten years ago now."

He paused in the doorway when she lead him into her bedroom. "What?" she asked, hands on her hips. "You're all worldly now, aint'cha? It's just a room. I got something of yours in the dresser." The top drawer creaked as she pulled it open and shifted aside stockings and bloomers. "Here we are then." She presented the leather case to him, opening it so that he could see the gleaming silver.

"I don't believe it," he muttered, finally stepping into the room.

"I took anything that was worth anything to sell for her, but I held on to these. I coulda' got five quid for them. I thought, who knows? Maybe the poor blighter will be back one day. Cracked in the head I was." He removed one of the razors from the case, gently flipping it open to study the blade. "Those handles are chased silver, ain't they?"

"Silver…yes. These are my friends."

"Friends now? I'm the one who kept 'em safe for you." She set the box still open on her dresser top.

"See how they glisten." He held the razor up so it reflected in the lamplight, completely intent on the razor he continued to talk to himself, or the razor, she wasn't quite sure. But she watched him, mesmerized. "My friends, my faithful friends--"

"I'm your friend too, Mr. Todd," she said softly. He cradled the razor gently in his hand, his voice comforting, soothing--the razor. _Nellie Lovett I do believe you're jealous of a knife. _She pressed herself up against him, taking advantage of his mindlessness, feeling him against her body. "You're so warm…"

"Your warm in my hand," he said, and she started until she realized he was speaking to the razor.

"You can move back in here, Mr. Todd," she said, hoping her charity would bring him out of his trance.

His attention never wavered. "You shall drip rubies…precious rubies."

"Silver's good enough for me," Mrs. Lovett said offhand, wondering when he was going to stop rambling. She stepped away from him, picking up the case, hoping to get the razor back into it, and his mind back in the room. "Mr. T."

"At last," he cried. "My arm is complete again!"

Mrs. Lovett sighed and shook her head, snapping the case closed. "Well ain't that grand. You can have the sofa tonight if you like. Tomorrow we can sort things out and decide what's to be done with you."

He finally came back to her, flipping the razor closed again. "Not until I've found my Lucy."

"It's late, love," Mrs. Lovett said with a sigh. He glared at her, returning the razor to the case, his fingers lingering, stroking the smooth metal. "All right then. Let me get my wraps."

* * *

With her hat pinned to her head and a dark spangled shawl tossed around her shoulders to protect against the quickly coming night, they set out to the streets. "Horrible night for it," she remarked as a fine London mist began to settle. Mr. Todd seemed to not even notice the rain as they walked, looking into the face of every woman for the visage of his dear Lucy. It near broke her heart, watching him hope, and knowing what kind of wife awaited him.

"Alms! Alms! For a desperate woman!" Lucy's voice, wavering and weak, echoed down the street. She came up to them, all dirty and pale and sore. She was bent over, old, though she was several years younger than Mrs. Lovett, her hair gone white with madness and grief. "Penny for a pop mister," she offered Mr. Todd before Mrs. Lovett could say a word.

"Get away, hag," he tried to shoo her away.

Lucy was unperturbed, but Mrs. Lovett wanted to cry. Poor Mr. T, to have to see his wife such. Still, she caught a glimmer of hope. Lucy was not the blushing beauty of his past. She was a filthy beggar, willing to sell herself for a penny or anything shiny. Standing next to Lucy it made Mrs. Lovett, even gone to seed in her later years, looking pretty good.

Mrs. Lovett took Lucy by the hands. "Lucy dear pet. I'd like you to meet a friend of mine. This is Mr. Todd."

Lucy grinned, her eyes blank as she looked at him. "Porridge," she said in greeting.

"Yes dear, we'll get you a nice bowl of porridge." Mrs. Lovett looked at Mr. Todd apologetically. "I feed her porridge some days when it looks like she hasn't had enough to eat, though she'll eat the meat pies too--even if they've gone moldy. Mr. Todd?"

"That cannot be my Lucy."

"I tried to warn you."

He reached a hand out to touch Lucy's cheek but pulled away before he had a chance to stroke her papery skin. He turned on his heels, hurrying off in the opposite direction. "Now see what you've done," Mrs. Lovett said to Lucy, but she had already lost interest, wandering down an alley to dig in the trash bins. Mrs. Lovett was not the least bit interested in going on after her.


	3. The Plan

Part 3

A/N: Sorry so short. Either this fic will end up on the short end (less than 10k words) or it will ramble on forever with a couple dozen uber-short scenes. Not sure how it's going to work out yet.

Shameless plug: If you want more of my stuff (stuff that _has_ to update w/ at least 1k twice a week), I write a serial novel about demons trying to survive high school. You can see a link on my profile.

-- -- -- --

Mrs. Lovett spent the night alone in her shop. Mr. Todd did not return, and she eventually locked the front door. Lucy spent the rest of the night wandering the streets as well. _Good riddance to her_, Mrs. Lovett thought as she locked the door leading upstairs. _Stupid girl. Don't see why I've put up with her as long as I have…_

Returning to her rooms she saw Mr. T's pack sitting on her sofa. "Well then. At least he'll be back."

-- -- -- --

The next morning found Mr. T sleeping in the doorway of the pie shop, looking quite cold and uncomfortable, he jolted awake as soon as she turned the key on the lock. Opening the door he entered silently, and she said not a word either, until they were sitting at the table in her parlor with hot cups of tea. "I had some time to think last night," he said finally. "I'd like to rent the room over the shop again. I want to set up the business."

"If you like," she replied. "You know I'm here for you. For whatever you need."

"Yes. Thank you. And I'd like you to help me with Lucy."

"With-with Lucy?"

"Yes. She is my wife and I love her. I want her at my side, like the old days."

_Damn her. Why couldn't the poison have finished the job?_ "She's happy the way she is. I tries to help her--it never sticks. Luv, you just need to accept that your wife is gone. She took a poison and died fifteen years ago. There is none of her left in that poor soul wanderin' the streets."

"I can't believe that."

"Believe what you want. You'll see soon enough. Well then. We'll need to clear out the second floor, scrub it down _very_ well…that will take a day or two in itself. You could use Albert's chair of you want, and I think I still got your old sign in the bake house--we can just paint over the name--that's handy ain't it?"

"Very." He held his tea cup in both hands and stared into the fireplace.

"What is it, pet?" she asked, leaning towards him over the table. "What's wrong?"

"It is all his doing. His fault."

"The judge?"

"The bloody Judge. I will see his blood flow before I leave this world. I won't rest until it wets my fingers and stains my hands. All we need to do is trick him up into the shop…he wont remember me, I doubt he remembers my name. I will offer him a shave and I will slit his throat--"

"Just don't come cryin' to me to clean up the mess."

"And then Lucy will be avenged, Johanna will be free, and we will be a family again."

"Aye, a family man with bloodstain on his hands with a nutter for a wife and a sixteen year old daughter who's been raised in the lap of luxury and will have to settle for a one room attic on Fleet Street. One happy family."

Mr. Todd sipped his tea quietly for a moment before standing up and chucking his cup into the fireplace. The tea hissed and fizzled on the hot coals and Mrs Lovett watched as her best china began to blacken.

"I'm adding that to your rent," she told him, and took up the poker to fish the cup from the flames. "Now then. We needs to figure out how to get the word about that your shop is gonna be open."


	4. Keeping House

4. Keeping House

A/N: Sorry it was so long between updates. I had a friend visiting and barely did any writing the whole week--the only thing I managed to keep updated was my serial novel. I didn't even get any schoolwork done.

-- -- --

Mrs. Lovett washed windows with her hair tied up under a scarf while Mr. Todd hauled Lucy's rubbish collection out to the bins in back. They had cleared a disgusting assortment of rotted chicken pieces, greasy bits of wrapping paper, rags that stank of human waste, broken bottles, chunks of wood, lumps of coal, rock-hard bread crusts…it was several hours to clear out everything, including the nest where Lucy slept and the collapsing cradle. "I certainly got an exercise with this project," Mrs. Lovett told Mr. T when he returned to survey the empty room. "We should whitewash the walls--brighten things up a bit, don't you think?"

"Whatever you say."

"Now, don't go being like that."

"How could you let her live like this for all those years?"

Mrs. Lovett stepped down off the stool she had been standing on to wash the top panes and wiped her hands dry on the big apron she wore over her dress. "She was a grown woman. I had me own life and Albert was sick, then the shop started to fail--you remember the days when I had a line goin' out the door? When Albert ran the bake house all day and I handled the shop? Well I don't even need the bake house now, do I? Sits down there as storage. The oven's been cold for years. What I wouldn't give to have all that back…the point is," she said, coming back to herself, "is that I had problems too. After you was taken away everything fell apart--rather like a curse, really. We all suffered. Really it's a miracle that she's even here at all, while my poor Albert is dead."

"I never got the impression that you cared too much for your husband."

Mrs. Lovett had to grin, stepping back onto her stool and picking up the discarded rag. "And here I thought that you never noticed me. I didn't like him much. But after ten years of marriage you get used to having a body around, you know?"

"Lucy and I were only married for two years."

"So why are you so broken up about this? It's been the present much longer than it's been the past, dearie."

She gasped in surprise when she felt his hands tight on her waist. He pulled her down from her perch on the stool and spun her so they were standing face to face. "I loved my Lucy with all my heart. She was my reason and my life. I died the day I lost her."

"You said 'was.' " Mrs. Lovett pointed out, brushing a lock of wild hair out of his face, and he dropped his hands from her waist and stepped away to look out the newly cleared window. "We've done enough here for the day I think. Tomorrow we will scrub it down proper and make things pretty. Alright?"

-- -- -- -- --

Mr. Todd slept on the floor in the attic that night, though Mrs. Lovett had hoped he would join her downstairs. In the morning they started in the attic again. While she mopped and waxed the floor, he pulled down strips of mildewed wallpaper. Lucy had scribbled all the walls with a bit of charcoal--crazy, wavering strokes, child-like portraits of no one. Some sections of the paper were smeared over with what could only be feces--the paper had to go.

"Thank you," Mr. Todd said at one point, not looking at Mrs. Lovett. "You must have put up with a lot, letting her stay here."

"It's me soft heart is all." She stared at his back. He was stripped down to his shirtsleeves, all rolled up so she could see the smooth, pale expanse of his arms. It had been so long since she had been properly held in a man's arms. " 'Course, the rest of me is soft too."

"Mmm." He still did not look at her. "I just want you to know, I appreciate what you did for her. And she will too."

"No, she doesn't. She doesn't even know my name."

"Now that I am back, she will start to remember. She'll be herself again in no time."

Mrs. Lovett wasn't sure what hurt more. Poor Mr. Todd hoping when there was no hope, or knowing that he wanted as little to do with her then as he did fifteen years before.


End file.
